


Present? Check, Mate and Greenhouse

by ncruuk



Series: Festive Season Three - shot [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:56:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5575681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncruuk/pseuds/ncruuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a few hours sleep, Kate wakes up on Christmas Day morning and gives Osgood her Christmas Present.</p>
<p>Follows on from 'No. 8s on Christmas Eve'.</p>
<p>[Kate/Osgood Christmas story continuation. Set in the same 'headcanon universe' as my other story 'Code Word Classified: Gallifrey' - it's not necessary to have read that story at all but they will complement each other.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Present? Check

**Author's Note:**

> Will make some sense if you haven't read my main fic - Code Word Classified: Gallifrey (found via my author page or the Kate/Osgood pairing tag), but will make no sense if you haven't read the first story in this series - No. 8s on Christmas Eve (found via the series page).
> 
> Enjoy!

If life was a romantic film, mused Kate, playing with a strand of Osgood’s hair as she watched and waited for her lover start to rouse, it would be sunlight through the curtains illuminating the room, rather than the soft glow of Kate’s bedside light which they’d failed to turn off when they’d finally conceded that sleep was unavoidable.  When she’d first woken, she’d found the lamplight irritating as it meant the room was just bright enough for a still half asleep Kate to properly wake.  Once fully awake, she made the mistake of glancing at the clock, discovering that she’d woken just after 8.  It took longer than she’d care to admit to work out that, based on a snatched memory of seeing the clock when she was still definitely awake and very, very distracted, she’d probably had no more than 5 hours of sleep.  But since this was her life, and not a romantic film, it was not a surprise that she had failed to take the opportunity to have a ‘proper’ lie-in before needing to get up and face the morning and her children.  Actually, now she thought about it, she had no idea what the last film she’d seen was (Osgood would know), but she was fairly certain that few film scripts would have let her have both the lie-in and Osgood, with the majority of scripts probably giving her the lie-in and not Osgood.  And she’d never actually found lie-ins all that satisfying, whereas her girlfriend...

 

It was on this happy conclusion that had seen Kate stop her inner grumbling about no longer being asleep and instead start revelling in being awake and with the benefit of enough light to properly take in her surroundings, starting (like the mother she was), with a quick check that yes, the bedroom door was still firmly shut, the rest of the house sounded quiet and was probably still asleep and there was laundry to do…

 

“Pockets!”

 

“Huh?” Blinking, Osgood looked sleepily across the pillow at Kate, wondering what had woken her.

 

“Oh…” Mortified that she’d woken her up, Kate dropped the strand of Osgood’s hair she’d been idly toying with and started to try to move away from her slowly waking lover, “...sorry! Didn’t mean to wake you… go back to sleep…” only to be thwarted by Osgood gently tightening her hold on her waist, keeping her close enough to further reinforce her point by tangling their legs together.

 

“No thank you,” declined Osgood, politeness being an instinctive behaviour even when half asleep, before further emphasising her desire to stay awake and keep Kate in bed with her by rolling slightly onto her back.  Based on how entwined their legs now were, this meant Kate had little option but to roll with her.  As a result, she was soon held close against Osgood, almost on top of her girlfriend who was becoming more alert by the moment and in a position to have a proper conversation, “good morning.”

 

“Hello.” Kate decided, since she clearly wasn’t going anywhere, that the best way to express her guilt at waking Osgood up was with a kiss, although it ended rather sooner than she would have liked as her girlfriend pulled gently back from her, prompting her to ask  “What’s wrong?”

 

“Out with it.”

 

“Out with what?” asked Kate, confused.

 

“Whatever it is you’re thinking about, problem shared and all that,” requested Osgood patiently, her face showing genuine interest in whatever it was that was preoccupying Kate and resulting in a ‘nice but not quite’ kiss, which wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind as the way to start Christmas Day.

 

“Umm…” Kate knew better than to try and wriggle (either literally or metaphorically) out of her girlfriend’s clutches at this point, “...laundry and the contents of pockets.”

 

“Ah.  I imagine the uniform goes back to the Tower next time you go in?” guessed Osgood, remembering something Max had said about Kate refusing to wash khaki.

 

“Yes, but…”

 

“But I put the non-uniform washables in the hamper…” Osgood’s speech was interrupted by a yawn, giving Kate the opportunity to mentally translate that rather formal phrasing (especially considering they were lying in bed together) and worked out her girlfriend meant she’d put Kate’s knickers and bra in the laundry bin, “...and the contents of your pockets on your bedside table, apart from the beret which is on the dresser, so your phone’s alright,” she finished, thinking that was probably what was bothering Kate.

 

“Thanks, but that wasn’t what I was worried about washing…” 

 

“Your glasses are there too.”

 

“Thank you,” Kate smiled when, instinctively pausing, Osgood didn’t interrupt her, enabling her to continue her explanation, “...but it was actually your Christmas present I didn’t want to wash.”

 

“My Christmas present?  But the only other thing in your pockets was a small leather notebook…”

 

“Which was my father’s,” began Kate, trying to reach out blindly to pick it up from where she’d just remembered spotting it resting on the bedside table, next to her glasses, “and I’d very much like to give to you,” she finished quietly, finally having to shift away from Osgood so that she could turn and look for the notebook.  This momentary separation enabled both women to discreetly retrieve deadening arms from under their partner and quickly coax circulation back into tingling hands, before Kate turned back and shyly passed the notebook over to a bemused Osgood.

 

“I can’t take this…” protested Osgood, her eyes wide even as she automatically accepted the small notebook Kate was offering her, “...it was your father’s…” she added, nevertheless reaching for her glasses which had somehow managed to end up in their usual spot on her bedside table, despite her inattention when Kate had taken them off her.

 

“You’re not taking it, I’m giving it to you…” amended Kate gently, smiling in reassurance and what she hoped was encouragement, “...and as you’ll see from the first entry, in many ways, that one’s always been yours…”

 

“I don’t understand…” however, even as she spoke, Osgood had carefully opened the notebook which had evidently been used by the late Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart to record some of the thoughts that made up his personal journal.  “...this is…” Not sure what ‘this’ was, she looked again at Kate who, despite lying with her head on the edge of Osgood’s pillow, suddenly felt too far away.

 

“Something I would like you to have,” repeated Kate, smiling in encouragement but also reaching across and draping her right arm and leg loosely over Osgood’s body under the covers without moving her head or disturbing the soft, warm cocoon their once more entwined bodies were creating under the duvet.  With Kate no longer feeling far away, and seeing her nod in encouragement to keep going,  Osgood repositioned her glasses, turned the page to what was the first entry and, self-consciously clearing her throat, began quietly reading aloud.

 

“Tom Osgood was unusually cheerful today, even for him.  Actually caught him whistling while he worked on something, didn’t understand what, but no doubt it will be extremely useful.  Turns out, Mrs Osgood...Becky... is pregnant, and the Sergeant could not be happier.  Tried telling him that it was not the done thing, to go round telling people about the baby until after it had got a bit bigger (damned if I could remember what Fiona had told me when she was pregnant with Kate)...”  Osgood paused and went to double check the date of the entry, doing some mental arithmetic even though she instinctively knew the answer already.  Eyes wide, she looked at her girlfriend.  “Is this?  That is…”

 

“It’s one of my father’s journals, it starts the day your father found out your mother was pregnant with you, and ends up being mostly about you actually… your father was rather proud, right from the very beginning…” Kate tucked a strand of hair behind Osgood’s ear, “...justifiably so…” she waited, lower lip nervously caught between her teeth, wondering what her girlfriend’s reaction would be, all her earlier confidence in giving her the journal rapidly disappearing.

 

“It’s incredible… and you’re not giving it to me,” corrected Osgood, returning the gesture and running her fingertip over Kate’s worried forehead and lifting errant blonde strands out of her eyes, “...you’re sharing it with me.”

 

“But…”

 

“No buts...we’re both in this journal…”

 

“So’s the Doctor…” added Kate, feeling relieved that it sounded like Osgood appreciated the little battered notebook but still confused since she was also in the process of putting it down on the bedside table.

 

“All of which helps make it a wonderful present to look at, properly, later…” confirmed Osgood, removing her glasses and putting them on top of the notebook.

 

“Oh?” Kate wasn’t completely clear on what was happening, but did at least draw some confidence from the fact that she wasn’t being pushed away (the opposite in fact) and she thought she recognised the look on her girlfriend’s face as one of overall contentment rather than distress.

 

“...later, when you’re not in bed with me.”  At first hear, Osgood’s words sounded a little harsh, so decisively did she declare that Kate’s presence was not helpful, but Kate remained relaxed and calm, knowing from experience that her girlfriend was planning aloud, and the plan wasn’t complete yet.  “And when we have nowhere else we need to be for a bit…” Osgood paused, a frown on her face as she reviewed what she said, knowing she hadn’t quite got her thoughts in order.  “I mean, right now, we’re together, in bed and...”  Osgood trailed off again, still frustrated that she wasn’t matching her thoughts to sufficiently precise words.

 

“Ah.”  Having a reasonably good hunch about what her girlfriend was trying to say, Kate was momentarily surprised when she felt herself relaxing slightly, which was invariably the first indication she had about how nervous and tense she’d got,  “Since It’s not yet 9… and the boys will probably oversleep…”  only to tense again when she saw and felt Osgood tense.  “What’s the matter?”

 

“New rule needed…” said Osgood finally, after shaking her head briefly, as if trying to shake off an ill-fitting hat.

 

“Rule?”  Kate was lost, and potentially needing an emergency head-clearing coffee if they found any more tangents to go wandering down.

 

“Yes, relationship rule,” clarified Osgood, shifting rapidly but carefully so she was now comfortably balanced over Kate, their legs entwined and Osgood easily bracing herself with her arms either side of Kate’s body, keeping their lips tantalisingly apart.

 

“Ok…” Notebook forgotten, right now Kate was probably going to agree to anything Osgood suggested, especially if it expedited various bits of her girlfriend moving the relevant fraction of an inch that would see their body contact shift from ‘comfortably cosy’ to ‘intimately close’.

 

“Concentrate…” teased Osgood, knowing where Kate’s mind had wandered, before, on seeing her girlfriend’s attention focussed, saying with total seriousness, “...no matter how sweet, wonderful and marvellous the reason for talking about them, we are not talking about our parents or your sons when we have time to be awake and naked in bed.  My brain can’t cope.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Ah?” Osgood blinked, not sure how to interpret Kate’s response.

 

“Ah, but can I point out it’s your father who keeps ringing…”

 

“And you’re the one who usually answers!”

 

“It’s a… distracting ringtone, and I don’t know how to silence your phone without answering it.”

 

“I’ll teach you how to silence it, change the ringtone and turn off the sound,” bargained Osgood, immediately willing to sacrifice the ‘Dad’s Army’ theme tune that had been her father’s unique ringtone for the last few years as well as make certain her phone never audibly rang if it meant her girlfriend never started talking on the phone to her father when she was in the middle of trying to make Kate forget how to form words...

 

“Thank you.  And I definitely don’t plan to voluntarily think about my children...” murmured Kate, running her hands gently down Osgood’s exposed back in loving reassurance, the duvet having disappeared when Osgood had moved on top of her.

 

“Thank you…” They both knew that, were anything to happen, despite both boys being in their twenties, it wouldn’t matter what Kate was doing, her sons would be her first priority.

 

“Ok?” asked Kate, her hands starting to make longer, firmer sweeping strokes up and down Osgood’s warm, silky smooth back, thumbs trailing lightly over the curves of hips, ribs and breasts.

 

“Mmm…” Osgood shifted once again, responding to the gentle pressure Kate was exerting on her back and starting to settle more of her weight onto her girlfriend, “...almost.”

 

“Almost?” If it weren’t for the wonderful feeling of her lover sinking down into her arms, Kate would be frustrated at how long it was taking for Osgood’s lips to get within kissing range.

 

“Happy Christmas Kate…”

 

“Happy Christmas Os…”


	2. Mate

“Check…” said Gordy cautiously, reviewing the board carefully, only to hear what sounded like a cross between and sneeze and a cough from the doorway.  Looking up, he and Max saw Osgood leaning against the doorframe, having clearly been watching them play for a couple of minutes.  Feeling defensive, Gordy started gesturing towards the board, “...it is, look at the Rook…”

 

“Look at your Bishop,” observed Osgood calmly, smiling gently in encouragement at the young man who, in moments like this, was so clearly his mother’s son.  Frowning, both boys returned their attention to the board.  It was Max who spotted it first.

 

“Well done mate,” he said easily, reaching across to deliver a friendly punch to his adopted brother’s shoulder.

 

“Check Mate!  I’ve won!” Grinning, Gordy whipped out his phone to take a picture of the chessboard, his enthusiasm infectious and making it easy for Max to accept the defeat good-naturedly.

 

“Took you long enough,” observed Max easily, enjoying his brother’s almost childish delight at besting him at the game. They’d both played casually since school, but in recent years, their occasional games had invariably been won by Max, whose exposure to military discipline and strategy had helped him to curb his schoolboy maverick-ness and play with just enough of a plan to usually box in and bamboozle his more easily distracted brother.

 

“I beat you last Easter!” protested Gordy, thinking Max’s assessment a little harsh.

 

“I meant to notice.  You had me in check 3 moves ago.”

 

“5 actually, and mate 2 moves ago, when you lost your Queen’s bishop Max,” said Osgood quietly, unmoved from her doorway position.

 

“You didn’t say anything!” protested Gordy, feeling a bit embarrassed that he had failed to notice either his winning position or her sooner.

 

“You were fun to watch,” shrugged Osgood, catching her lower lip in her teeth.  “Where’s Kate?”

 

“Garden…” Gordy looked out of the large bay window at the wet weather, made to look worse by the rapidly advancing night, even though it was only just after 4pm, “...greenhouse I think?” He looked guiltily at his brother, only just noticing how bad the weather was.

 

“Greenhouse,” confirmed Max, having paid a bit more attention to his mother when she’d passed by earlier, “she said she was going to have a tidy up and that it was time to be potting on…” he paused, trying to remember what she’d said, “...nope, can’t remember.”  He looked reassuringly at Osgood, “but she was definitely going to the greenhouse, and she was wearing her gardening clothes...but don’t remember about a coat,” he finished, now sharing Gordy’s guilty expression.  “Sorry, we weren’t paying attention.”

 

“Don’t worry,” reassured Osgood, knowing that for all their collected teasing of Kate about her inattention when it came to what she wore to garden in, and pulling up some carrots by moonlight whilst wearing a sequinned evening dress was Osgood’s personal favourite, her girlfriend was neither stupid or reckless.  If it was windy and wet, she would be in the greenhouse, and if she’d planned to garden, she would be dressed sensibly: it was only when Kate became distracted by garden tasks once she was out in the garden that she ended up doing things in unconventional clothing.  “I’ll take her a coat and some tea,” she decided, standing up properly again and preparing to head to the kitchen.

 

“Fancy a game?” asked Gordy, gesturing to the chessboard, feeling confidence following his victory over his brother, “after you’ve found Mum?”

 

“Sure… in a bit? agreed Osgood, “unless I get roped into compost sieving or something!”  

 

“Great.  Usual rules?” asked Gordy, glancing between Max and Osgood to see if they were both willing to play.

 

“I’ll leave you to it,” muttered Osgood, not waiting for Max’s answer as, distracted by the rain blowing against the window, she headed to the hall cupboard where she knew she would find her own duffle coat and something she could take with her for Kate.  She pulled on her coat and, after a moment’s thought, grabbed Max’s old uniform waterproof jacket which she knew he’d tried, clearly unsuccessfully, to get his mother to adopt as a gardening coat.  Leaving the boys to reset the chessboard and work out what handicap they wanted Osgood to play with, and tea forgotten, she went out through the conservatory into the garden relieved,  despite her earlier reassurances to Max and Gordy, to see the lights on in the greenhouse.


	3. Greenhouse

“Knock knock…” she called out gently, standing in the open doorway of the greenhouse, taking shelter from the rain which was blowing across the garden, not wishing to startle Kate with her arrival.  Max’s coat was already placed on the workbench, just inside the door, where it would have been if Kate had remembered to wear it in the first place.

 

“Oh, hello…” Smiling, Kate put down the pencil stub she’d been using and turned off the radio, saving Osgood from having to listen to the Archers. “...you’re a mess!”

 

“Thanks…” Not disputing her girlfriend’s assessment, Osgood stepped fully into the greenhouse and shut the door behind her, catching enough of her reflection in the glass to understand what Kate meant.  “...the wind’s got up.”  She removed the few leaves that had caught on her hair, “and it’s raining.”  As if emphasising her point, she removed her glasses and started polishing them with her coat cuff, although she’d have done that anyway as her glasses always reacted badly to the different atmosphere of the greenhouse.

 

“Give them to me…” requested Kate, walking up to Osgood in a couple of steps and taking the brunette’s glasses, “your coat will scratch the lenses,” she needlessly explained, starting to polish them with the soft checked flannel of her shirt tail.

 

“Thanks…” Someone else might have filled the minute or so that it took Kate to polish the glasses with some sort of pointed remark about how they knew _their_ shirt cleaned _their_ glasses really well, but that wasn’t Osgood, who instead was perfectly content to stand quietly and wait until she got her glasses back.

 

“There you go.” Smiling, Kate passed the glasses back to their owner, wondering what had brought about this unexpected visit.

 

“Thanks…”  Blinking a couple of times as her eyes adjusted to being able to see the world with the benefit of clean glasses, Osgood found herself looking around the greenhouse, looking anywhere but at her girlfriend, her extremely observant girlfriend.

 

“Os?  What’s wrong?” asked Kate gently, worrying at her lower lip rather than worrying aloud.  Rationally, she knew that her sons were probably fine, since Osgood had appeared to arrive in the greenhouse quite calmly and her peripheral vision told her that the house was still standing.  Therefore, logically, it had to be something affecting either her or Osgood directly.

 

“Umm…” Unable to form the words she thought she’d already found when she’d planned what she wanted to ask and say, and feeling cross with herself for losing her earlier confidence, Osgood searched for something, anything to say, hating how worried she was making Kate look, now she could look at her, “...your hair…” she stumbled, mentally chastising herself for how silly she must be sounding.

 

“Yes?” prompted Kate kindly, trying to stay in ‘girlfriend’ mode and not switch to ‘UNIT Head’ crisis solving mode, although she couldn’t stop a self conscious scratch to the back of her neck as she tried to remember what her hair was doing.

 

“I like it up…” mumbled Osgood, reaching to rearrange the scarf she wasn’t wearing, only for Kate to catch hold of her nervously fidgeting hands instead.

 

“Thanks.  I should probably wear it like this more often then?”

 

“Not to work...” Osgood had blurted out the words before she’d really realised she was speaking, only to start rambling in her rush to explain, “...I mean, of course to work, it’s your head, I mean hair, on your head.  You should do whatever you want with it, except cut it, short again, please, not that…”

 

“Os?” interrupted Kate, trying not to show her amusement too much, but wanting to calm her girlfriend down before she stumbled herself into an asthma attack.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Bearded or Japanese?”

 

“Both.”  Osgood thought for a moment, her hands relaxing in Kate’s as she pondered the question, before adding,  “and Siberian.”

 

“Siberian?  I think I’ve left it a little late for those this year.”

 

“You don’t need to… plant all my favourites I mean.”

 

“No, but I want to, if I can,” admitted Kate, pleased to see Osgood start to smile a little, showing she was feeling more at ease again.

 

“The notebook…”

 

“Yes…” Kate willed herself to stay calm as she waited to find out what Osgood’s reaction was to her Christmas present.

 

“You’ve read it.”

 

“More than once.”

 

“You know, I mean, you’ve always known…” Osgood swallowed thickly, relieved when Kate stayed silent, her expression open and loving but otherwise neutral, “...about my name.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But you never said anything…”

 

“No, I… I mean….” It was Kate’s turn to stumble now, uncertain whether she was being criticised or thanked.

 

“Thank you…” Osgood could not keep her emotions in check any longer and let go of Kate’s hands, only to quickly pull her into an embrace that soon helped Kate understand (had she been in any doubt, which she hadn’t, not really) exactly what it was about her hairstyle that Osgood enjoyed.  It took all of Kate’s willpower to try to contain her response to Osgood’s soft kisses along her neck and inside the collar of her shirt, but after the second kiss that was accompanied with a fleeting brush of tongue and lips, her quiet hum of contentment turned into a more passion-filled moan.

 

“Os…” She threaded her fingers into her girlfriend’s hair and wordlessly coaxed away from her neck so that she could turn Osgood’s emotional monologue into a conversation as lips met and, mouths open, tongues began to dance and duel in eloquent, loving harmony, both women oblivious to the drumming of the rain and the howling of the wind.

 

* * *

  


“Think they’re ok?” asked Gordy, stood at the kitchen window alongside Max when, chessboard reset, they’d discovered that not only had Osgood not returned from the garden, she hadn’t made any tea either.

 

“They’re fine.  The greenhouse’s dry, and Mum’s probably got her sieving compost or counting seeds or something.  You know what she’s like…” reassured Max, slinging his arm around his adopted brother’s shoulders.

 

“Yeah, she’s going to be hours now she’s got an assistant,” agreed Gordy, switching the kettle on, “rematch?”

 

“Think you can beat me twice in a row?” teased Max, giving Gordy a playful shove as he turned away from the window and went to get some mugs for tea.

 

“Stranger things have happened,” said Gordy, still looking out of the window, pleased that his Mum had some company in the greenhouse, pleased that it was Osgood.

 

“Think we should take them a cup?” asked Max, nodding out towards the greenhouse, not entirely willing to get soaked in the process, but unable to not make the suggestion.

 

“Nah…” said Gordy, turning away from the window, “I think they’re probably alright without.”

 

* * *

 

  

“Kate?” Osgood’s voice was husky when, after several long, lovely kisses, they separated slightly, foreheads touching, their arms loosely looped around each other’s waists.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I’d meant to bring you some tea…”

 

“I think I can cope…”

 

Overhead the rain kept falling, and inside the greenhouse, Osgood’s glasses were once again in need of cleaning, but neither noticed, too caught up in their conversation which needed no words to be spoken.  

 

They were, most definitely, alright.

 

They were, whole-heartedly, together.

 

They were, quite simply, Osgood and Kate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> 'Bearded', 'Japanese' and 'Siberian' are all types of Irises, which for some reason best known to the deep, dark, unexplored corners of my fic writing muse, are what Osgood's favourite flowers are in this 'headcanon-verse' of mine. But I'm sure that was exactly what you all thought they were when you read that bit of the fic, being upstanding, horticulturally informed types *g*.
> 
> I know that in The Zygon Inversion, Osgood tells the Doctor her name is 'Petronella'. In the same conversation, the Doctor tells her his first name is 'Basil'. In this 'headcanon-verse' of mine, since I cannot believe the Doctor is called 'Basil', I am also electing to believe that 'Petronella' was picked by Osgood on the spur of the moment for that conversation. Therefore, her true first name remains a secret, guarded closely by those that know, which includes Kate, thanks to the Brig's faithful recording of Tom Osgood's enthusiasm when his daughter was born.


End file.
